In Vain
by OccasionallyCreative
Summary: Regency England, 1800s. A scourge of the undead has flooded England and the rest of the world, and former military commander Kylo Ren has a proposal to make to the zombie slayer Rey Kenobi.


**Author's Notes:** _The Pride and Prejudices and Zombies (2016) Reylo AU nobody was asking for. Inspired by the fight scene between Elizabeth and Darcy, with a large side portion of worldbuilding, drizzled with a jus of implied Stormpilot._

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IT was clear to Rey, on examination of her cousin's letters, which had been delivered that very morning and given her reason to delay her first meeting with Hux's patron, the much-lauded Lord Gaius Snoke, that her cousin was entirely determined not to criticise any part of his time on board the ship of the Royal Navy, despite the burden it presented. He spoke well, as was his character, of his peers, and of his superiors, namely Captain Poe Dameron. He was a kind character, warm, though distracted by duties when at sea, a contrast to the cheerful disposition he'd shown when he'd lived in Netherfield.

Rey glanced over the fortified window, through which cracks of light brought in the distant, muffled sounds of the countryside. Rey's heart lifted at the thought, the knowledge, that it soon would not be paper and ink that would show Finn's disposition, but Finn himself, if he made it through the Portsmouth blockade.

It had been a year, at the most, that he had been away from her, and it had been one of confusion and mess. When he had departed, to fight off the infections growing on the other side of the world, she had lived behind the fortress of the manor, hoping to last behind its strengthened walls, but such hope had not lasted.

The undead had grown cleverer by the month, the week. They'd grown in strength, in their savage cunning, until finally, day after day, London had been declared unsafe, and all bridges to it destroyed under the order of King George, save for one. The undead, it was whispered, were advantaged everywhere in battle; the only thing that saved someone unfortunate to stray into their path was their lack of speed, easily outrun by horses and carriages. The lack of speed, along with the containment of London, had enabled the wealthy to live still comfortable lives, the middle classes somewhat wary lives and warned the poor to give up all hope.

Some who were fiscally focused, right-leaning in their opinion of politics, claimed the scourge was a benefit to the country, ridding the upper classes of the responsibility of keeping peasants off the streets. Rey had kept her tongue around such supposed gentlemen; if the scourge had not existed, if she did not rely on the kindness of distant cousins that lay along her family lines, she would've, she was certain of it, made it her duty to speak up against such clear nonsense.

Yet the undead had kept coming, her distant cousins had been consumed, and she had fallen far down to a friend of a late half-cousin, who had been, not six months ago, ripped apart by a disgruntled former maid who had screeched about the unfairness of wages as she'd feasted on her master's innards.

The friend of her half-cousin, Armitage Hux, was an unsavoury but wealthy gentleman, and perhaps an admiral in another life, with a training more for the mental than the physical elements of battle. Not two weeks into her stay at Hux's base, a small manor inherited from his father and built upon on the arrival of the infection, Rey had received an unpleasant surprise.

It was her great misfortune to learn that Kylo Ren, previously a commander in the militia (whispers from now deceased cousins had informed her of his once respected position alongside the legendary Skywalker), had had his own misfortune in that Hux had saved him from an oncoming zombie via the accidental triggering of a pistol, and so was owed a life debt by the former commander.

Rey had not met the fact with pleasure. While still living at Netherfield under Dameron's protection, Rey, alongside Finn, had met Ren. After a rumoured sighting of numerous undead, Dameron had brought together his old friends from his time on the ground in London, to discuss what could be done.

"You should not have guards on the grounds," Rey had suggested, remembering how her and Finn's guards had been set upon by the first scourge, a priest and his flock, and killed instantly. It was to fortune that they had managed to defeat the attack, and keep their manor for a little longer. "Their presence alerts the undead to the fact there is living, breathing human flesh - the one thing they crave - in a place."

"And if someone was seeking shelter, they would think the place deserted and proceed on, endangering them. Do not speak, Miss Kenobi, your naivety shines," Ren had said, with a nasty curl of his lip. His scar, gained in the First Battle of London, twisted as he frowned, conversing with Dameron. Rey had watched him speak; half-listening to his words, and decided she would never be able to like a man such as Kylo Ren.

The sound of the doorbell roused her, and Rey stood, smoothing down her skirts. She wondered, idly, if it might've been the messenger, delivering a forgotten letter.

Letters were a rarity, messengers willing to deliver them rarer, and like a spoiled child, she hadn't extrapolated the pleasure of reading her cousin's words. She had run her eyes over them, desperate for news and for his voice, his disposition, so that she could remember it anew and forget, for a while, the danger of the outside world. Her hope diminished as quickly as it had arisen, confusion replacing it as she stared at the visitor, blinking at him when he bowed.

"Miss Kenobi," Ren stated. He sat on the sofa as he was invited, leaning forward so his elbows pressed onto his knees. Rey stared at the clock on the mantelpiece, one eye on Ren.

He seemed to carry more than his usual agitation, or perhaps, she considered, it was a different agitation entirely. Rey started up, and then stopped. Rey rose to her feet at the same time in alarm, her eyes darting to the boards, the salon's closed door. There was no immediate threat, no obvious threat. Wary, she sat back down.

Ren remained standing, though he seemed at one point to want to return to his chair, but changed his mind and stood by the fireplace, then came towards her, stopping and clasping his hands behind his back.

"This has been a struggle." He spoke without the usual assurance, stopping and starting his words all at once. "But – my feelings aren't to be repressed. Despite your numerous inferiorities as a warrior, your placement in China instead of Japan being one of them, and your lack of good breeding, your past and current circumstances, everywhere I have turned, I have found you. And, now, I find myself in the position of wanting to teach my skills to another. To you, Miss Kenobi."

Rey, for a moment in the ensuing silence, wondered if this was perhaps a dream. In another moment, immediately succeeding the first, she doubted it were reality at all. The picture painted before her, standing over her, of a man wrestling in turmoil, was one she did not associate with Ren. At once, she coloured, remembering his words of derision. She almost spoke, but her circumstances forbade it. She clenched her fists tight in her lap.

Her connection with Hux was tenuous at best, and would only worsen if she were to cause injury, verbal or physical, to his reluctant friend.

She found herself examining past encounters, dinners shared, dances made, insults thrown, all in the confines of Netherfield Hall. Never once had Ren exposed himself as fond of her, or carrying any sort of affection for her. He had consistently derided her lack of teaching, subtle overtures in his words of further tutoring needed if she was to face the oncoming storm, for a storm was coming, he'd claimed, and she was far from ready for it. Neither was Finn, he'd declared, telling him he needed to strengthen his resolve, and thus prove his loyalty to the King.

Rey's colour deepened. She quietly rose to her feet.

"Did you influence Captain Dameron in his decision to offer my cousin a position on his ship?"

"The captain possesses his own mind, but he has loyalty to me."

Rey trembled, and repeated her question, with firm determination, but the answer, intoned to her in careful speech, remained the same.

"I understand that gratitude, or a sense of obligation, has to be felt at occasions such as these. I feel neither. If I did, I would thank you. However, on the topic of my education, I have never desired your opinion, good or bad, in spite of your consistent need to provide it. I am sorry that I have caused you this pain. Any pain that is additional to the pain currently suffered by all of us is deserved by no-one. I would not wish to cause any conscious pain on anyone except for the undead. May your pain only linger, and not endure." Her voice trembled at the last, and she turned away, swallowing back breaths.

Ren stepped closer to her. Rey hurried to move away from his figure, his shadow, going to stand at the salon door. Ren rounded on her, his eyes fixed on her face, but he did not move from his spot.

"And with such little attempt at true civility," he said. His tone was cold, sharp as a blade, and at the commencement of further speech, he gave a thin smile. Rey glared in return. "You've yet to learn the ways of life, Miss Kenobi. Perhaps, if you were less naive, you would realise that, in these times, such an offer is rare. You are unlikely to attract another tutor who is so willing to overlook your lack of proper education."

Despite her earlier covenant, that physical violence to Hux's associate would sever her fragile connection to him, her host, Rey's pride stirred and forced her hand, to such a point that she felt lasting triumph, instead of any lasting regret, in kicking Ren squarely in the stomach, with enough force to send him tumbling into the cards table.

Rey, not seeking to resolve the matter with any further words, for Ren had already proved himself to be lacking in that category, took hold of several historical volumes, targeting Ren. Ren straightened as the first volume approached his head, and knocked it away with the back of his hand. Rey spat Mandarin at him in a spitting snarl, more akin to a wild stray than a warrior. He replied with a cursory bow, returning the thrown volumes to her with a series of overarm throws. Rey yelped, dodging the throws with ducks of her head, and coming to grab the poker from its position by the fireplace.

Ren paused as Rey rounded on him. With such a substantial weapon now in her hands, she advanced on her adversary.

Ren dodged the first blow, blocking the heavy-weighted poker with his hand, clutching the shaft tight. Rey struggled against his grip, and flailed out, the flat of her hand rapidly approaching his cheek, but it was with his free hand that Ren blocked her intention, holding her wrist tight.

Rey panted against the weight, sweat beading on her forehead. She coloured again as her eyes held Ren's in the impasse.

"Did you influence Captain Dameron in any way about putting my cousin onto his ship?" she spat.

"I viewed your cousin as a distraction to your studies."

Rey snarled. "My studies?"

"If you are to survive the scourge of the undead," Ren said, still caught in the impasse, panting at the expended effort, strands of his hair dampening and sticking to his forehead, "distractions should be eliminated."

Hurt plucked at Rey's heart, her eyes growing wet, a renewed grief mixing in with her fury. Yet fury overcame, and Rey lifted her knee to direct it, with certain neatness, into Ren's groin.

Winded, Ren let go of her and she toppled to the floor, at the loss of his strength on her, yet she rose to her feet without hesitation, swinging the poker wildly in his direction.

"That was not – your – decision!" Every word was punctuated by a swing. The poker fell out of a hand with a thud against the wooden floor as Ren tripped her, sending her falling onto her back. Rey scrabbled for her weapon, her fingers outstretched, but Ren's boot kicked it away.

Averse to allowing Ren to gain the high ground, Rey turned her hands towards Ren's ankle, tugging him down to join her on the floor. Ren landed with a grunt, but before he could recover, Rey took it upon herself to straddle him, holding his hips tight between her thighs, her hands around his neck. Ren spluttered, quite understandably, at the force of the movement, his brow narrowed at the dishonour of it.

"He could've died!" Rey spat, her features close to Ren's, but her head filled with the warm words of her cousin. Her only remaining family, who had left with the knowledge that, unlike others, he would come home to a manor she had failed to protect, that, unlike others, he would return to the existence of begging shelter from people they barely knew.

The distraction was to Ren's benefit; Rey found her hands wrenched from his neck and rolled onto her back. She wrapped her legs tight around Ren's back, locking her ankles together, arching her back, attempting to push him away from her, to gain breath enough to resume the fight. Ren slammed her back onto the floor, pinning her wrists either side of her and a silence overcame them both.

The fight, as rapidly as it had begun, was ended. Rey slid her feet down to the floor, her knees arched as Ren straddled her, his usual pale pallor unaffected.

"I influenced Dameron to take your cousin onto his ship. I have no shame in admitting to that. But you, madam, have revealed your own character – it is as combative as my own." The frown in his brow faded, his eyes softening as he spoke, "Understand that I know your feelings. You can be assured that Hux will not learn of this."

He let her go, and stood, departing the salon with a bow to her. Rey breathed hard, her thoughts tumultuous and incomprehensible as she sat by the fire, unable to know how to think, how to act, how to pass the time until her host returned, save for tears.

When those were finished, her host was returned. He held little interest for her agitated manner, so Rey gathered up Finn's letters and retired to her room until supper.

All that evening, Ren found his place in her mind.


End file.
